


Edge

by ofmiceandbears



Series: Mice's Nero x OC Fanfiction [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Bar Talk, Based on: Prompts I gave myself, F/M, Just two hunters who both suck at flirting, OC insert, Post Mission Rituals, Slight AU - Cannon Divergence, gratuitous use and mention of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26116105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofmiceandbears/pseuds/ofmiceandbears
Summary: Nero and Jericho teeter on the edge of something real
Relationships: Nero (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Mice's Nero x OC Fanfiction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896307
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a collection of drabbles and prompts I gave myself to keep myself busy. Updated whenever.

Nero’s favorite part of the week was always hanging out at the bar with Jericho. It was their own post mission ritual, the pair sitting at the same spot at the same bar drinking the same drinks at the end of every job. Nero can’t get drunk, his accelerated healing assured that, but he did rather enjoy watching Jericho drink until the carefully crafted mask she kept on slowly slipped away. She was always a little more open after a few whiskey-and-Cokes, a huge, goofy grin plastered on her face as she belted off key to whatever song was playing on the jukebox. 

Jericho is about midway through her third drink when her phone rings, the sound cutting through some story she’s telling Nero about her pre-devil hunting days. She frowns at the name flashing on the caller ID and declines the call, setting her phone face-down on the copper bar top and resuming her story. Her phone rings again a few moments later, and again, Jericho declines the call, brows pinching together as she frowns down at it. Nero is more than curious when it rings for a  _ third _ time in less than two minutes, Jericho’s frown deepening into a full blown snarl when she answers the fourth call.

“ _ Yeah? _ ” She answers, sounding less than pleased. “I’m busy, if you hadn’t noticed the first three times I ignored your call.”

Nero tries to politely ignore Jericho’s conversation, but she’s unusually rude and angry to whomever is on the other end of the line and it catches one-hundred percent of Nero’s attention. Jericho has a temper, that’s for sure, but he’s never seen her less than achingly polite to anyone - especially while on the phone. The abrupt change in her tone is strange, and Nero wants to know who it is on the other end of the line that has her so angry. 

“I’m with Nero.” Jericho clips, hooking the pointer finger on her free hand around the rim of her glass to twirl it in small circles, watching as the liquid threatens to spill over the side. She rolls her eyes and expels a displeased breath from her nose, taking her drink and finishing it off. “Dude,  _ really _ ? You and I are barely even talking. I can barhop with whoever I fucking want to. I’m not going to let some dude I’ve hung out with exactly three times tell me who I can and can’t hang out with.” 

Nero jerks his head toward Jericho, shock and surprise making his jaw fall open. Jericho  _ really _ doesn’t like whoever is calling. The woman gnashes her teeth and bristles at whatever the person’s response is. Her fist closes so tightly around her glass that Nero can hear it creak and threaten to crack. He pries it out of her hand as gently as he can, setting it on the edge of the bar top for the bartender to pick up on his way back 'round. 

“I  _ swear to fucking God, _ ” Jericho snarls into her phone, the words sounding the second most angry he’s ever heard. “If you call me again I’ll fucking kill you.” Jericho punctuates her statement by ending the call, device clutched so tightly in her hand that her knuckles go white. She sighs and stuffs her phone into her pocket instead of chucking it somewhere, politely asking the bartender for a double shot of whiskey and another whiskey and coke.

“Jack?” the bartender asks, taking the twenty Jericho passes him. 

“Nah, just whatever’s on well.” she replies, sticking with the cheap stuff she’s been drinking all night. The bartender nods and whisks away.

“I hate to pry,” Nero begins, resting the tip of his beer bottle against his bottom lip. “But who are you threatening to kill?”

The bartender has come back with Jericho’s drinks already, setting them in front of her and thanking her for the seven dollar tip she insists on giving him. She knocks back the double shot without so much as a grimace, setting the glass upside down on the rubber mat that lines the farthest side of the bar top in the weird way she always did. She claimed that it was for good luck, but Nero just thinks she saw it in a movie once and just never stopped doing it.

“He’s just some chump I met a while back when Nico and I were running around getting into trouble.” She grumbles, sounding a bit more dejected than she was trying to show. Nero knows that there’s more coming, so he allows Jericho to gather her thoughts. When she speaks again, her voice is small.

“I just thought…. That he might actually like me for  _ me _ , you know? But he wants me to stop Devil Hunting, and he thinks that I should just be some stay-at-home girl who’ll have dinner ready for him when he gets home from some stinky office job.” Jericho curls her lip and downs her entire drink in one go.

Nero  _ hates _ the dejected look on her face, and  _ hates _ that some asshole made her sound so much smaller than she really is. He can’t imagine Jericho not at his side on jobs, the sound of her raucous laughter filling the empty space between the angry howls of whatever demons they’re exterminating for some dumb, rich asshole that didn’t know what he was getting into when he started summoning them for one reason or another.

“I’m not about that, so we’ll just delete and block his number.” she says finally, stretching out across the bar top. She sends Nero a tight smile and orders an Everclear slushy when the bartender comes back. Nero is just grateful that she can practically hold her own weight in liquor so he doesn’t have to carry her home later. 

“Fuck that guy.” Nero agrees after a beat.

Jericho sits back up and leans her head on Nero’s shoulder, picking at a fraying seam on his jacket sleeve. She sucks in a large breath and lets it out in a rush, a tell tale sign that she’s well and truly on her way to being drunk and no longer holding the pleasant buzz she usually tries to keep.

To Nero, the best part of Jericho is the fact that she never wants to sit still. She’s always doing something - whether is taking on odd jobs around the neighborhood or helping Nico and Nero work on the van. Nero doesn’t understand why the guy would think that to be an unappealing aspect of Jericho’s personality. She’s headstrong and ambitious, and the chump she had been talking to is an idiot for not seeing that.

Nero feels a curl of jealousy wind its way in his stomach, sitting in his belly like a lump of hot coals. Jericho is speaking again before he can reflect on it, her head rising to now lean onto the palm of her hand.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever meet a guy that won’t mind that I have a million maceration buckets in the backyard, or who will see my collection of skulls and think it’s cool.” Jericho murmurs forlornly. “All I want is to introduce myself to a guy and say that I hunt demons and not have him think it’s  _ weird. _ ”

“Jerry.” Nero begins, forcing Jericho to give him her undivided attention. She turns her gaze onto him, green eyes murky and slightly unfocused with all the alcohol running sluggishly through her system. “I don’t mind any of those things. Sure, it’s a little weird to come home and see you elbow deep in some rotting carcass, blood and guts strewn all over the driveway,” Nero waves his hand in an imitation of what he means, grinning when Jericho glares at him. “But those are all the things that make you,  _ you _ . If some asshole can’t see that and also see how that makes you awesome, then you don’t need him in your life.”

Jericho is completely still in what seems like the first time ever. Nero almost thinks that she stopped breathing. Her eyes are wide and her throat works like she’s trying to swallow. Did Nero say something wrong? Maybe he hurt more than he helped. He shouldn’t have said anything, he was so  _ stu- _

“Are you hitting on me?” Jericho asks after what feels like forever. Nero grins again, leaning over and crowding into Jericho’s space, hand sitting firmly just above her knee. From this distance he can see the honey-gold motes in her eyes and the scar that cuts diagonally across her right eyebrow. Another scar rests at the corner of her mouth, making her lip turn down on that side. Not for the first time, Nero thinks that Jericho is pretty in an unconventional way. 

“And If I am?” Nero asks, voice low. Jericho swallows again and her lips part, searching for something to say. She lurches forward slightly, so close that Nero can feel her breath fanning across his face. There’s a smattering of freckles that form a constellation across the bridge of Jericho’s nose, a lovely pink flush making them stand out in the dim light of the bar. Something intense fills the small space between them, crackling with an energy that Nero can’t explain. 

He suddenly thinks that he wants to kiss her, and the realization isn’t startling so much as it just feels  _ natural _ ; as if they’re sitting on the edge of something real and slightly terrifying. When did their playful flirtations become real? At what point did Nero go from thinking about Jericho as a partner and instead as something more than?

Suddenly, the bartender shouts into the bar that it’s last call, the interruption breaking the intense atmosphere and hitting harder than any demon they’ve ever faced before. Jericho jerks back, coughing and grabbing the slushy she had ordered and immediately forgotten about. She sucks the majority of it down before tossing a final ten onto the bar and shoving herself from the stool, avoiding Nero’s gaze all the while.

“We should probably get home before Nico decides she needs to call a morgue.” Jericho mutters. Nero nods, downing the watery remains of his drink and throwing his own tip onto the bar. He follows Jericho onto the street, catching her elbow when she stumbles slightly.

She allows him to hold her hand the entire way home. 


End file.
